


The Agent Ensemble

by Ninjapig



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Musicians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjapig/pseuds/Ninjapig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a stellar debut in Rome, the Agent Ensemble has arrived in Istanbul for their second concert. Will they pull it off, or has Napoleon bitten off more than he can chew? Musicians AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival in Istanbul

_Week 1. 9.00 a.m., Monday - Cemal Reşit Rey Concert Hall._

"Good morning, gentlemen and lady," said Waverly, striding down the steps of the performance hall amidst the cacophony of warm-up sounds. “Glad to see you’re all present and accounted for. As you all know, our performance here is to take place in one month, so that does not leave us with a great deal of time." He glanced over at the violist, who was tuning his instrument. "How are things coming along with the arrangements, Solo?”

Napoleon gestured with his bow to the three binders of sheet music resting on the piano. “I’ve completed a skeleton framework of the scores, so to speak, but I have yet to run it past Ms. Teller and Peril here. We’ll need all the rehearsal time we can get.”

“You’re already booked in for the next few weeks at this time slot for Mondays to Fridays, so practice as much as you need,” Waverly replied, turning his attention to Gaby behind the drums. “Are you satisfied with the acoustics, my dear?”

She smiled. “So far so good. The hall isn't as large as I thought it would be, but I know I can adjust my playing accordingly as rehearsals go along.”

“Good, good…” Waverly’s voice trailed off as he scrolled down his tablet. “Oh yes. I just received an important e-mail this morning from the Vinciguerras. In order to decide on their patronage, the couple themselves will be attending opening night. Take note however that this does not mean that you can ease up for the other days, as they have a practice of sending a representative to attend each performance of a group they're interested in sponsoring.”

“We will not fail,” Illya responded, already leafing through one of Napoleon’s binders and making annotations on the manuscript with a pencil. “I will make sure of it.”

Waverly regarded the pianist with a hint of amusement. “Very well, Kuryakin. Alright then, I shall take my leave for now and see you three come Monday morning.”

The door had barely shut behind Waverly when Illya spoke again. “Cowboy. I see many pages here. What is the number of songs we are to play for concert?”

 _Here we go._  Napoleon drew in a breath, deciding to take the bull by the horns. "Seven. Maybe a medley at the end, so that makes that eight."

Gaby's drumstick clattered to the floor. "Are you insane, Napoleon?! Most groups only do three or four pieces! Sometimes two!" she exclaimed, staring in horror at him.

"Look, we're doing modern songs from a movie soundtrack, as opposed to classical compositions with three movements in each piece," Napoleon explained, picking up the drumstick and handing it back to her over the cymbals. "Overall, the time we'll spend on stage is no longer than a standard orchestra performance."

"That's still extremely ambitious! You're also forgetting the fact that we'll probably have to switch between rhythmic patterns, instruments and style of music during our concert. It's not going to be easy to keep track of everything," she maintained.

"We're aiming to impress, aren't we?" Napoleon smiled.

Gaby wanted to smack him.

"He has point, chop shop girl," Illya interjected, prompting Gaby to fix her disapproving glance his way. "It is not easy to gain favour with the Vinciguerras. We must prove our worth."

She sighed in frustration. "Fine! But we'd better make sure we don't crash and burn."

They continued setting up, and Gaby set her drumsticks down to begin tuning her cello. A few moments passed before another horrifying thought occurred to her. "Napoleon?"

"Yes?" His response was light, almost innocent-sounding.

Gaby narrowed her eyes. "Your eight songs don't include encore songs, right?"

"I don't intend to repeat anything, no," came the reply, and she groaned. "I'm open to variations of a piece though. Speaking of which, I will need the both of you to help me select one or two suitable songs from the soundtrack, as I haven't arranged anything for the encore yet."

Illya nodded absently. He had listened to all the songs on the flight and already had a few in mind. "Okay, Cowboy." He flipped to the next score and blinked in surprise. _Piano and viola duet, female vocals_... He was about to say something to Napoleon, but caught himself when he noticed Gaby muttering furiously under her breath and tuning her cello with a little more force than usual. _Maybe another time_.


	2. Individual Practice Sessions

_Week 1._

_6.08 p.m., Thursday - Cemal Reşit Rey Concert Hall._

Gaby performed her roll once more, cringing as she missed the timing on the way down. She shook her head in frustration. _Not again._

She forced herself to slow down to an exaggerated  _largo_ , making sure she hit every beat, then increased her speed gradually with each repeat of the roll. When she thought she had it, she reached over to her laptop and [reset the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVQstw1rjG8&feature=youtu.be&t=1m6s) to the midway point. Listening to the viola's sharp notes over her headphones, she noted the pause that signalled her entrance and launched into the roll in time with the recording, her drumsticks flying over the skin of the drums in quick succession. She smiled in relief. _That's more like it._

Sucking in a deep breath, she played through the rest of the song, careful to note the loudness of her build-ups and the subtle warning signals from the piano indicating when they had to switch over briefly to '[East Berlin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SYLWfmHEvA&feature=youtu.be&t=3m)', and then back again. When it was over, she set down her drumsticks and let out a long sigh, feeling exhausted. She had to admit, Napoleon had a point in choosing to mash-up these two songs. It was arranged in such a way so as to showcase the drums and end the concert with a bang, but it was ridiculously technical and required a lot of composure on her part. As it was, the number of times she had miscalculated the timing on her rolls was unacceptable. She should have gotten them down-pat by now. 

Taking a swig of coffee from the cup she had brought in, she laid down her drumsticks and reset the track to the beginning, closing her eyes to listen carefully. At least they had all played through it almost perfectly that one time for her to be able to refer to.  _Mental note to self: thank Illya for recording everything._ Maybe she could pick up some _[börek](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B%C3%B6rek)_ on her way back to the hotel. She knew he liked the lamb ones.

_10.12 p.m., Thursday - King Bomonti Suite, Hilton Istanbul Bomonti Hotel & Conference Center_

Napoleon chewed on a mouthful of flaky [_talas böreği_](http://www.oktayusta.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/etli-talas.bmp) (which he had quickly pilfered from the box Gaby had brought back) as he tapped his fingers on the manuscript, trying to figure out a way that they could interpret yet another two songs from the soundtrack. _Four days and still nothing._ This was unusual for him, especially since the original songs were all fantastic. Then again, he had been too focused on finalising the existing arrangement of songs to have a proper think about the encore, and so had his fellow musicians. He hoped that something would come to mind before the weekend rolled around.

He swallowed the last bite of his pastry and carried his empty plate to the living room, where he could hear Illya and Gaby softly conversing. He had to run through the Italian song with her before the night ended - her pronunciation of the words could still use some work, and he needed to hear their input on his rendition of the [Burns and Burke piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGTYPqaGNeg&list=PLVXXtkqpldpGpkcpp43bpTFZHO0VBsuOQ&index=9).

By the end of the night, Napoleon was both pleased and annoyed with himself at the same time. Gaby was improving steadily with his coaching, but his own singing was lacking in emotion. He couldn't understand what was wrong. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying, and it had nothing to do with his pitch, breathing or volume control, all of which were technically perfect. The irony was that his lifestyle suited the lyrics perfectly, but any attempts he made to serenade an imaginary woman while rehearsing just made it sound cheap.

 _It must be because it's a slow jazz cover,_ he realised later while brushing his teeth, groaning at his own reflection in the mirror. Everything was just so much more soulful in that genre, after all.

_1.37 p.m., Saturday - Practice Room 11, Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University_

Sometimes, Illya mused as his fingers ran up a B flat major scale, he wished for the simplicity of being a soloist again. 

It was so much easier that way. No need to adjust your playing style to that of other musicians; they have to adapt to yours if they were going to accompany you. No need to worry about anyone else apart from the conductor and yourself when preparing for a concert. No need to spend hundreds of dollars' worth of recording equipment, just to make sure that you kept in line with each other even during your individual practice sessions. And most importantly, no need for unnecessary arguments and endless discussions that went round in circles in rehearsals. His patience was already stretched to breaking point after yesterday's tedious run-through, and his sheet music, once pristine, now sported a couple of holes from the many times he had to accommodate the American's sudden outlandish ideas and Gaby's spur-of-the-moment improvisations. His eyes narrowed as he examined them - they were almost large enough for his little finger to go through, and would only get bigger as the days went by.

Then again, he thought as he walked back down the keys, he had to admit that his music career had become a whole lot more enjoyable since he started working with Cowboy and the feisty German girl. As a trio, they improved each other every time they played together and were rapidly learning how to compensate for each other's musical weaknesses. Illya's creative boundaries were constantly pushed to their limits when he was with them, and he knew, deep down, that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to be able to work with such established musicians in the industry.

Completing the scale, his fingers naturally gravitated to the starting position of [the first song in their programme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XG_RvYTfDk8&) and he launched into it, enjoying the light notes and bouncy rhythm. It was his favourite piece in the whole soundtrack. He had a feeling that Napoleon knew it too, since he had retained the piano as the primary instrument and had also kept the arrangement as close as possible to the original, which was very unlike him. Perhaps the dark-haired violist was learning to adapt to his and Gaby's preferences as well.


End file.
